


A Man of Letters

by desertdrift (AlsaTronic)



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Calligraphy, M/M, Writing on Skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25549543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlsaTronic/pseuds/desertdrift
Summary: Merriell is sent away to the family summer home indefinitely (with Eugene following after to keep him out of trouble) after getting into a fight. He eventually settles on calligraphy to keep himself occupied, but he has an interesting way of practicing.
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Comments: 20
Kudos: 16
Collections: Sledgefu Week 2020





	A Man of Letters

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for the "letters" prompt (as you can see, I interpreted things a bit literally).

"Hold still, damnit." Merriell's being his usual self today, but there's no bite to his words. 

Eugene struggles a bit to comply. Ordinarily, he’s not that ticklish (hasn’t been, really, since he was a boy). There’s just something about the way Merriell drags that calligraphy brush against his skin. He becomes hyper-aware of each cold, delicate stroke, and the urge to pull away is too great to resist. Still, he must if he wants Merriell to practice. 

They're in a sprawling king-size bed, Eugene on his front with his head supported by an overstuffed pillow and Merriell straddling his hips and doing his best to keep his brushstrokes even. Merriell's room is an exercise in opulence; paintings of subjects ranging from landscapes to portraits and religious iconography hang on every wall. Nearly every spare surface in the room itself is occupied by some sculpture or tool or instrument, musical and otherwise. There are a lot of those, left over from his brief forays into the sciences and the arts until finally settling on calligraphy. His bed is little better, with pillows upon pillows crammed against the dark mahogany headboard and tossed off to the corners. In the early days of his and Eugene's cohabitation, Merriell liked to refer to it as his "love nest" just to see that lovely flush show up on Eugene's cheeks. He still calls it that from time to time, though now they get to put it to that use. 

The house, more akin to a small mansion, had been the summer home of Merriell's grandmother's family for ages, a respite from the hustle and bustle of the big city. Thanks to an uncomfortably public scuffle between him and the son of a rival family regarding the "womanly honor" of Merriell's mother, it now served as a hideout while the Shelton family attempted to make amends. Though he would swear under oath that that filthy bastard had deserved no less, in fact, quite a bit more than the black eye he'd gotten for insulting Merriell's absent mother, it was clear few others on either side of the matter felt the same way. 

"You're just fortunate we're sending your _friend_ along with you," his grandmother had told him a couple of days after the incident. By then, the bruises and scrapes were starting to heal into a greenish yellow mess. He knew they could have been a good deal worse had Eugene not pulled him off the other man and saw to his injuries properly. "Maybe Mr. Sledge can keep you out of trouble, since you can't seem to manage it." 

And he supposed he _was_ lucky his grandmother had simply packed him and Eugene up and shipped them off to the summer house for the time being instead of sending Merriell God knows where, all by himself, to get into even more trouble. Not that the other family hadn't tried for a more serious punishment. Luckily, no one told Ms. Shelton what to do with her kin, especially not her dearest and only grandson, so that was that. 

Eugene tries to focus more on the length and direction of each stroke Merriell lays down. Merriell used to obscure everything with his sloppy hand and only succeeded in tickling Eugene, which of course made him squirm and make Merriell's attempts even messier. Many a practice session had ended with Merriell giving up halfway through and just scribbling nonsense or dirty words and pictures on Eugene's back. Then Merriell would offer to help him wash it all off in the shower, and the likelihood of them getting anything productive done in the rest of the day went down drastically. Now, though, Merriell's gotten much better at writing and Eugene's gotten better at reading without seeing. 

Whatever he's writing, it takes up most of the upper left and lower right of Eugene's back. One stroke curves near the back of his left shoulder and trails down his teres major. A few more strokes spread out and down, something like a fork. He definitely feels three distinct vertical strokes; an 'M', perhaps? 

Merriell moves lower down his back, and the writing is harder to discern. The pattern of movement suggests something curved, he thinks it might be a 'C' but there's too many parts to it. 

"Mer," he calls softly. Merriell just hums in response. 

"What are you writing on me?" 

Merriell keeps working long enough that Eugene thinks he either didn't hear him or has decided not to answer. Then, "Don't you worry about it. You'll find out soon enough." 

Eugene doesn't think there's anything in his voice that suggests he's drawing something unseemly on his back, but with Merriell you can never quite be sure. 

* * *

The image in the mirror is reversed, but it doesn't take long for Eugene to figure it out. 

"Merriell, these are your initials," he says looking over his shoulder in the mirror. 

"Mmhm. Sure are." He doesn't do a very good job keeping the smugness out of his voice; Eugene's not even sure he's trying. 

He figures he may as well critique the work; the whole purpose of this is supposedly to improve Merriell's mastery of the calligraphy pen, regardless of what Merriell thinks is going on when he teases that brush over Eugene's skin (or what happens afterward). He starts with the 'M', and it's awkward to look with his neck turned the way it is, but he can see it well enough. Merriell's opted for a Gothic style with the addition of Copperplate flourishes. From anyone else, the contrast would look ridiculous. Out of context, it does look ridiculous, overly complicated, but knowing it comes from the man currently standing off to the side behind him makes it work. It has Merriell's brand all over it. 

The 'S' is less stellar; it's legible, but Eugene can tell he struggled with how to combine such different styles here. Some of the strokes are either crooked or veer off like Merriell lost control. Overall, Eugene thinks it's a good job, and he says so. 

"You've improved a lot." Alright, it's not exactly a "good job" but it wouldn't do to grow Merriell's ego too much. Given how long they've been staying here, Ms. Shelton wouldn't be too impressed if Merriell came back with an 'S' so messy. 

Merriell's eyebrows go up, that cat's smile spreading into a grin. "Well now. You're just full of praise today, ain't you?" 

Eugene huffs out a laugh and looks away. He can feel the blush rising on his cheeks. "I've got plenty of praise for those who earn it, you know." 


End file.
